Fix You
by jumpingjaxx13
Summary: Phoenix Wright had always been a lucky man- something which the crippled prosecutor could never hope to claim. Despite life's misfortunes, though, there may still be a chance to find his ray of light before it shuts down for good (Rated T for suicidal thoughts)
" _And the tears com streaming down your face_

 _When you lose something you can't replace_

 _When you love someone, but it goes to waste_

 _Could it be worse?"_

 _ **Fix You by Coldplay**_

Luck was a fickle concept. What it gave to one, it purloined from another, the situations themselves unable to glean positivity from nothing. For instance, the child who wins a tournament is considered lucky, but their blessing was derived from the failure of her competitors. In a typical situation, the strings of fate were tight, no man receiving more or less fortune than the other. A balance of highs and lows, threading together the lives of the average person. As always with natural orders such as these, though, there were the exceptions.

Phoenix was a lucky man. Whatever paths he lead himself down went straight to El Dorado, his life full to the brim with laughter and success, the sparkling faces of those closest to him visible in every mirror. Though he had experienced his fair share of misfortune, it never lasted long, leaving him as much of a free spirit as ever. At least, that was how _he_ saw it.

He was a different story. Like opposite fields of a magnet, one could not function correctly without the other's services. Where Phoenix Wright bore a rabbit's foot wherever he walked, Miles Edgeworth held a pinch of salt between his fingers at all times, always prepared to toss it over his shoulder in hopes that what plagued him would disappear.

His father- his _hero_ \- had been murdered in an elevator, the blame for which he held closely to his chest for nearly two decades. Afterward, he had been taken in by the true perpetrator, brainwashed and mercilessly beaten into shape, prepped to fit the von Karma mold. While his counterpart could reclaim his entire essence with ease, Miles was haunted by the accusations of his past. Once the dent was put, there was no going back, was there? Not for him. Any dignity he lost was irreplaceable, and it seemed that he was fresh out.

Out of things to care about. What wounded him most about that was the fact that he found no dissent with it. Perhaps, at some point long ago, someone had engrained it into his mind that he was deserving of it. From the blows he received to the terrible twists of fate, he was broken down piece by piece until there was little left worth protecting. While unintentional at most parts, he had located a beautiful contradiction to his own self-preservation. It seemed that with every step of the ladder Wright, he himself tumbled further into the abyssal nadir of his own life, the worst part being that he didn't mind it at all. If that was the price to pay for the luckiest man alive to continue his reign, then so be it.

As much as he hated the seven layers he was put through, he would much rather watch the cherubic attorney rise from his point on the ground than stare down helplessly as he met his fate.

His affections were far more than business-like – beyond the realm of the platonic relationship that the three of them had shared during childhood. Unrequited, he was sure, judging by the good _luck_ had done for him in the past. Not that it mattered. The window for desiring reciprocation had long since passed, simply wallowing in his starry honey eyes more than enough to satisfy him. The choice had been made long ago about his actions, and there was no turning back now. No matter how much he wished to deny it.

There came a certain time in every bedeviled man's life where enough proved to be too much. Watching from the corner with glassy eyes as joined hands and excited cheers celebrated yet another hard fought victory against false chargers, he felt the weight settle down in his chest. A heaviness that had become so familiar, yet so haunting at the same time, the messages it bore always the same.

 _They are better off without you_

 _What have you done for them, other than cause trouble?_

 _You're the human embodiment of a migraine_

 _He would never love you_

Today, though, there was a certain gravity to those thoughts that hadn't been there before. It was true. Miles was broken, far too beyond repair at this point to bother, so why would he have anyone waste the effort? A soft sigh fell from his lips as the ideas locked into place within his exhausted mind. He could only hope that the fates found another source of serendipity to feed to Phoenix once his reservoir had run out. The trial that had ended was the toughest of his life, the true culprit alone having claimed a serial number of victims. Why not add one more exhausted heart to the masses so long as he could locate his way out?

An escape route was simple. Once he walked out the door, he wouldn't return, not offering any sort of explanation. There would be no need. Stepping out from the shadows, he set his eyes on the door, absentmindedly moving toward the door.

"Hey!"

Miles froze in his tracks, exhaling a breath he wasn't aware that he was holding. Slender hands balled into fists, inwardly cursing himself. This was _just his luck._ Turning back around to face the one who interrupted him, he tipped his chin up, face completely blank.

"Congratulations on your victory today, Wright," he mused, coaxing his fists into a relaxed state. There was no use putting distress where it didn't belong. "You really outdid yourse-"

The case had been a tough one to crack, sure. Tensions had been high, the stakes even higher. It had seemed that there was little direction in the proceedings, the evidence almost completely set against either side, which was an oddity in itself. None of that was stranger than what had just occurred.

The flat of a hand was pressed against his rapidly reddening cheek, the warmth bleeding into his skin. Lips meshed roughly with his own, parting them easily in his state of shock. Grey eyes remained open in shock, unable to process the mere closeness between them, heart ceasing in its beating for those fleeting moments.

Phoenix Wright was kissing him. And it was all he had dreamed.

Just as quickly as it had been initiated, the kiss broke, leaving him lost in a daze of baffled exhilaration. He held the dark gaze, fascinated by the elated gleam they possessed that could have lit up the world as easily as a thousand suns.

"We did it!" he exclaimed, beaming at him wildly. Of course, it was to be expected that he would harness this much excitement- it _was_ his own daughter on trial, after all. "Oh, I can't believe I…" Miles could see the gears turning in his brain as the previous moments began to click into place. The hand that had been resting on his heavily flushed cheek was retracted quickly, an identical one providing a mirror for himself.

"Ah…" Phoenix took a step back, the same hand that had held him now carding nervously through dark locks. "I was, uh…..right." Glancing over his shoulder, he laughed, the sound like an angel's chorus to deprived ears. "I should get going. F-Feel free to join us all for dinner, if you want. Usual places," he stuttered in invitation before retreating to his little group. Even from the distance, he could hear the teases and cheers coming from his companions.

Grey eyes followed the group as they exited, breathing and complexion slowly returning to normal. What meaning could that have had? Was it the adrenaline of a fresh conquest? Or could it be that there was a chance that…no. That couldn't be it.

Still, it seemed that the final nut had been twisted back into place. Those same thoughts passed through his mind again.

 _They are better off without you_

 _What have you done for them, other than cause trouble?_

 _You are the human embodiment of a migraine_

 _He would never love you_

Yet the tingle on his lips acted as a ward, sending his escape rippling into nothingness. Perhaps it would prove worthwhile to have dinner with them after all… Hand reaching up, he ghosted the tips of his fingers over his lips, corners quirking upward into a slight smile. With a roll of his shoulders and a newfound sparkle in his eyes, he walked quickly out the door, intending to catch up.

It seemed that Phoenix had fixed him, and he was even more whipped than he had been. Just his luck.


End file.
